Out of the BDSM “Scene”

Upon graduating high school, she felt liberated to expand her horizons and see what the world had to offer.

One of these things was BDSM.

After doing extensive Googling on the topic and finally joining a social media site geared toward all kinds of people with kinks, she decided to dive in and meet potential doms (dominants).

After a few duds, she finally stumbled upon an experienced and wise looking couple who were in search of a young woman to keep as a slave. “Perfect!” she thought. The couple was considerably older than her was at the time, but she always considered herself to be wise beyond her years. At first, she felt embarrassed and anxious about the situation, but over time she gained confidence in herself and her kinks.

Her Dom, Flip, groomed her to be self-confident and unashamed, so she continued the precarious relationship for months. He would ask her to perform tasks outside of her comfort zone, and she would push herself to not disappoint her Dom. She wasn’t particularly interested in some of the tasks Flip would ask her to do, but she thought that doing uncomfortable and even painful tasks was part of the BDSM scene. In her heart she knew that she was being coerced into performing certain tasks, but she continued to tell herself that, because she agreed to being Flip’s Sub, she already consented to anything that he asked of her. She knew something was wrong, but felt guilty at the same time.

At first, she felt embarrassed and anxious about the situation, but over time she gained confidence in herself and her kinks.

At first she became more and more enthralled with the growing secret she had been harboring from her friends, family, and even boyfriend. However, as the months passed she felt isolated from the people closest to her and eventually felt confined to her new world of whips, ropes, and blind folds. There was no one with whom she could confess her discomfort or ecstasy.

Luckily, the prospect of moving into her college dorm two hours away from her home town gave her relief, as she could easily peel herself away from the extensive life she had created. Now she was able to start over, and begin a new uncorrupted life. However, she still received countless texts, emails, and phone calls from her Dom. She was still trapped. During winter break she found time to meet her old Dom once again, but instead of confronting him with her concerns she was handed off to her Dom’s horny buddy and coerced into bondage.

That was the last straw.

She called up Flip and told him that she could no longer continue being in the BDSM scene with him or anyone for that matter.

After months of reflection, she realized that the relationship she and her Dom had was not as wonderful as she once thought. She remembered various times in which her Dom did not respect her boundaries, coerced her into performing certain acts, and took advantage of her naiveté. She wasn’t happy being submissive; she simply wanted the adventure of the experience. The guilt of being the instigator of the relationship continued to bear down on her until she finally consulted her old therapist about it.

“It sounds like you were a victim of sexual assault,” her therapist told her.

“B-but it wasn’t like that, I wasn’t attacked or drugged, nothing like that happened.” Her voice trembled as the severity of the situation dawned on her.

“Rapists and abusers in real life aren’t lurking in dark allies; often times, they are a friend, an acquaintance, someone you trust,” her therapist said.“You have to stop blaming yourself for this, okay? I’m proud of you for getting out of that situation, you’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

There was no one with whom she could confess her discomfort or ecstasy.

She was now at a crossroads of wanting to condemn BDSM for the turmoil she felt, but to also praise it for the growth and self-confidence the experience gave her. She knew it wasn’t the demonized image she’d seen so often on TV and in the news, but it wasn’t the glorified sex of Fifty Shades of Grey either.

Could it simply be a Sunday afternoon in the cellar? Or a way to pass time after work? Why couldn’t it be somewhere in between hell (demonization) and heaven (glorification)?